Page 5 of Surrender

“What?”

The confusion on her face almost tugged a harsh oath out of him. What in God’s name was wrong with him demanding to see the wound his cousin had stitched up? The question fell by the wayside as fear and wrath took complete hold of his senses. Wills had said the knife had barely missed her heart. Genevieve had risked her life with a recklessness that horrified him.

Genevieve took a step back, silently protesting his demand with a shake of her head. Her mute objection only increased his rage. In two quick strides, Theo closed the space between them, towering over her.

“Your shoulder. The wound. I want to see this insignificant scratch, as you describe it,” he snarled.

“Theo, I…I don’t—”

“Remove your jacket, Genevieve, now.” His low, rough command made her stiffen, and her beautiful green eyes darkened, then narrowed as she pinned her gaze on him.

“Why are you suddenly calling me Genevieve and not Ginny? The only time you’ve ever called me by my full name was the day I slipped and hit my head while we were climbing the cnoc beag with Peter.”

“I was angry that day because you ignored my warning, and Peter’s, too. And at this precise moment, I’m not angry with you. I’m furious,” he bit out between clenched teeth as he met her obstinate gaze. “Now, remove your jacket before I do it for you.”

Something flashed in her eyes, and a small voice in the back of his head said she might be afraid of him. He cast the thought aside. Genevieve was fearless, far too much so. In silence, he watched her comply with his orders, then throw the jacket at him in obvious irritation. A low rumble of outrage passed his lips as it hit him in the face. With a hard tug, he pulled the jacket off his head and threw it over the back of the rocking chair in an equal gesture of careless disregard. Turning back to her, he swallowed hard.

The only thing she’d been wearing beneath the high-neck riding jacket was her chemise. The linen garment was almost sheer, and for a moment, his body hardened with lust as he glimpsed the tips of her full breasts. A second later, his desire vanished as he saw the strip of linen wrapped under her arm, then over her shoulder several times to hold a large bandage in place.

Theo drew in a sharp hiss of air at the sight. Without thinking, he stepped forward and pushed aside the thin strap of her chemise and set about unwrapping the linen strip. Despite his fury, he worked with gentle efficiency. All the while, a voice in the back of his head shouted he was overstepping every boundary a gentleman would never cross.

They were no longer children, and she was no longer the girl whose wet bathing suit had hugged her curves that day at the pond. If anyone saw them like this, she’d be ruined. Not to mention he might not survive the beating the male contingent of Rockwoods would inflict on him.

But that thought didn’t worry him half as much as the danger Genevieve was flirting with every time she ventured into the East End on her own. Theo draped the long strip of bandage over the back of the rocker, then turned his head to stare at the large gauze square that clung to her skin, no doubt from dried blood.

He stood frozen in front of her for a moment, reconsidering his demand to see her wound. Theo knew what he was doing was scandalously inappropriate, but he was in too deep now to reverse course. The memory of the fear and concern on Wills’s face made him cast aside the objections filling his head.

Theo needed to know if his cousin had exaggerated the extent of her injury or if it was just a scratch as Genevieve claimed. With great care, he peeled the last piece of gauze away from her skin. The instant he saw the long gash pulled together by more than a dozen black sutures, Theo choked out an indistinct sound of fury and fear.

It was as bad as Wills had described, perhaps worse. How the blade had missed her heart was a miracle. And she’d actually dismissed the injury as if it was a minor cut. This gash was anything but that. Theo’s gut twisted as if he’d spent the night before in his club, drinking heavily.

“Christ Jesus, Genevieve. Do you…”

Words failed him as he stared in horror at the spot where the knife had sliced into her beautiful skin. She’d have an ugly scar when the wound healed. He slowly reached out in an involuntary movement to brush his fingers over her skin.

Appalled by his injudicious action and his demand to see her wound, he jerked his hand back, then whirled away from her. Knowing Genevieve as well as he did, he should have known she’d make light of the injury.

One hand sliding through his hair, Theo cupped the back of his neck. Shortly before his death, Peter had made him promise to watch over Genevieve if anything were to happen to him. At the time, Theo had found his friend’s request odd, but had agreed without hesitation. What he hadn’t known at the time was that his friend and Genevieve were working for the Crown.

Why in the hell hadn’t Peter told him everything? He still wouldn’t have known if she’d not been forced to seek medical help. If he had known the truth, Theo would have been tracking her movements like a wolf hunting its prey. She might never have been hurt, because he would have been there to prevent it. God help him. If anything happened to her—just the thought of it pushed him to the edge of a dark place, and it scared the hell out of him.

Closing his eyes, Theo crushed the thought. He didn’t know how, but he’d find a way to keep Genevieve safe. The sudden scent of orange blossoms filled his nostrils as she moved to face him, but he didn’t open his eyes.

“It’s only a small cut, Theo. I’m going to be fine,” she said softly, almost coaxingly, in an obvious effort to reassure him. “Even Peter would tell you that if he were here.”

“But he’s not here, is he?”

His voice was hoarse as Genevieve’s words sliced through him, and grief made his throat close. Peter had always managed to make Genevieve see reason, and at the moment, Theo couldn’t think straight, let alone try to convince her of the danger she was in every time she entered the East End alone.

Theo opened his eyes to stare down at her. If only his friend were here, Genevieve wouldn’t be half-undressed and standing so close to him that his entire body ached painfully for her. She met his gaze steadily, and the grief in her beautiful eyes changed to an elusive emotion he didn’t recognize.

“Please don’t be angry, Theo. I truly will be all right.”

Her hands cupped his face, and Theo jerked hard at her gentle touch. She frowned with puzzlement for a brief moment before he saw awareness darkening her gaze. All too aware of the dangerous ground he was standing on, Theo grasped her arms, intent on putting space between them.

The instant his fingers dug into her soft flesh, he lost all reason. With a hard tug, he pulled her into his chest and kissed her hard. Genevieve stiffened before her mouth softened beneath his. In that split-second, Theo realized his mistake. Jerking his head up, he tried to push her away. She resisted, and their gazes locked for a long moment.

Desire flared in her eyes, and his heart slammed into his chest. Christ Jesus, he needed to walk away from her, now, or he would kiss her again. It was as if both of them were standing on the edge of a cliff, each of them waiting for the other to jump.